Scoring Off the Field (WAGS series)

by Simone, Naima

  “Dom,” she breathed, her eyes glazed with the passion he’d caused.

  Maybe it was the taut quality of her voice that jerked him from the erotic rabbit hole he’d tumbled down. Maybe it was his nosy-as-hell inner voice that whispered he needed to stop before he went too far. As if his tongue wrapped around his best friend’s nipple wasn’t too far.

  “Damn it,” he swore, low and hot. Wrenching himself away from her, he stumbled back a step before quickly regaining his balance. She stared at him, those dark brown eyes still hazy with desire, her full lips swollen from his hungry kisses, arousal staining her high, elegant cheekbones. Her robe, disheveled by his body and touch, gaped to expose the path of skin between her breasts.

  The almost overwhelming need to return to her and shove that covering off her shoulders and take more of what he’d tasted tore through him like a destructive tornado. He whipped around, unable to continue looking at the image of tousled sexuality she presented. Burrowing all ten fingers in his hair, he clenched the strands in his fists.

  What have I done? What was I thinking? The still-insistent ache in his dick assured him that he hadn’t been thinking at all. Or if he had, not with the right head.

  “I’m sorry,” he murmured, still unable to face her. She was his friend—his best friend. And he’d treated her like one of the women he picked up for a night of fucking. Jumped on her. Ground his cock against her. Damn near shoved his tongue down her throat. How had he lost such control that he’d nearly damaged years of friendship? Had he learned nothing? He had to fix this. Turning to face her, he dropped his arms to his sides, met her now clearer gaze. “That shouldn’t have happened. I shouldn’t have touched you like that, Tenny. I know sorry is pathetic as hell, but I’m sorry,” he repeated the apology.

  Even as he acknowledged that, he still kept a physical distance between them.

  She slowly straightened and pushed off the wall. Not immediately replying, she rearranged her robe, tightened the belt. And when she lifted her head, the arousal had disappeared, leaving behind a careful indifference that scraped at his nerves.

  “No worries,” she said, that same coolness in her voice. “Believe me, I know you didn’t mean it.” She pivoted and headed toward the hall. “I’m tired, so if you don’t mind, I’m going to bed. You can let yourself out.”

  Without waiting for his response, she disappeared down the corridor.

  Though part of him longed to follow her and reaffirm that things hadn’t changed between them because of his momentary loss of control, he remained standing in the same spot until the click of her door reached him.

  Only then did he leave. Going after her would’ve only spelled disaster.

  She more than anyone should understand he didn’t do relationships. But Tenny wasn’t built for one-night stands, for casual sex. He couldn’t ever give her what she wanted—what she deserved. And ignoring this glaring fact would only hurt and damage their relationship more.

  Yeah, “more.” Because no matter how much he wanted their relationship to remain the same, he knew it couldn’t.

  Now he just had to figure out how to set things right, how not to lose his best friend because of a kiss. A wild, hot-as-hell, prelude-to-fucking kiss.

  Hell. He was screwed.

  Chapter Seven

  Tennyson paused in the middle of replying to an email, accepting a request for an interview with Dom on ESPN in three weeks. She thought she’d heard… Yep, there it was. She must’ve turned her cell phone ringer off by mistake, but that was definitely her phone vibrating inside her purse.

  Diving for her bag, she retrieved her phone, glancing at the caller ID screen. Not a number she recognized, but that wasn’t exactly unusual. Many of Dom’s business interests called her since, as his PA, she was the point of contact for him.

  Still, she couldn’t deny the trickle of relief that filtered through her when Dom’s number didn’t pop up. It’d been six days since her disastrous date with Adam. Six days since Dom showed up at her home.

  Six days of distance and awkward politeness between them because of The Kiss.

  Yes, The Kiss deserved to be capitalized like an event or battle that changed the course of history. Because it’d definitely altered their history. Hell, their present and possibly their future. Years ago, he’d told her there could never be more between them than a best friend relationship—he hadn’t wanted more. And though he’d taken her mouth like a starving man, his apology and regret afterward had pretty much cemented that he still didn’t. She could press him, ask what that kiss had been about. But she wasn’t ashamed to admit she feared the answer.

  Since that night, she’d opted to work from her apartment instead of his home office. And other than necessary discussions about business, they hadn’t called each other to shoot the shit like they usually did. It was ironic—they avoided talking about The Kiss to avoid awkwardness. But not talking about it was awkward as hell.

  Well, since she’d had more free time, at least she’d finally tried several new recipes, including one she found on Facebook for chicken enchilada zucchini boats. And a really delicious recipe from Sophia’s mom for tembleque, a Puerto Rican coconut pudding dessert.

  She’d also gone to her annual doctor’s appointment. Those were hell for her. The office wasn’t as terrifying as a hospital, but she still had to mentally prepare herself for days beforehand. They both had the same smell of disinfectant. The same sterile appearance. The same physicians and nurses with their instruments, needles, and questions… She shook her head and inhaled, focusing on calming her pulse. Yes, she could’ve called Dom and reminded him, and he undoubtedly would’ve come with her as he’d done in the past, holding her hand and sitting in the waiting room in case she needed him. But she had to learn to stand on her own two feet, especially since she’d applied for jobs out of state. In the future, he wouldn’t be able to jump on a plane and go to an appointment with her.

  And seriously, if she had reached out to him, what would she have said?

  Hey, Dom. I know the last time we saw each other your dick was pressed into my stomach, but could you come with me to my doctor’s appointment? Oh, and by the way, I’ve decided to add fire insurance to my policy, because that kiss set my panties ablaze!

  Not that it wouldn’t be the truth, because holy flame-retardant undies, it had been…combustible.

  For those few moments, she’d been wanted, desired. By Dom the man, not her buddy. For that short span of time, he’d no longer regarded her as the fragile, delicate Tennyson who needed sheltering. And the hard, uncompromising press of his body to hers, the firm tug of her hair, the hard clasp of her hip had confirmed it. All of it had been stunning…and wickedly delicious.

  Over the years, her mind had conjured up countless fantasies about how it would be if they finally crossed that friendship line. Those dreams had alternated between sweet and romantic to sexy and dirty. Never could she have imagined the reality would be a carnal combination of all four. Jesus, he’d…tongue-fucked her mouth. No other way to put it. And the solid, heavy weight of his cock against her… It’d been hot. And yet, there’d been tenderness in the teasing, indulgent licks and kisses.

  But then, he’d jerked away as if scalded. And not in a good way.

  That quick, he’d reminded her that she wasn’t one of the women he pursued and bedded. Whatever had pushed him to kiss her—anger, frustration, hell, a bad burger on the way over to her house—had evaporated, leaving regret and horror at himself behind. He’d kissed and touched her. Tennyson, his friend whom he’d never shown the slightest interest in. Who could never attract him with her too-ripe curves, short stature, naïveté, and sisterly bonds.

  Although that kiss had been faaarr from sisterly.

  Stop it, she ordered herself. From the dismay that had filled his expression when he’d pulled himself away from her as if she were the clap, she knew that kiss would never be repeated.

  Which, if she were honest, was probably a good thing
. Before The Kiss—BTK—other men had failed miserably in comparison to him. ATK, it would be even harder for them to measure up. Anything more, and she might as well take vows and become a bride of Christ. Because she feared no man would have a chance of competing against the sexual power that was Dominic Anderson. And she had to move on. Had to make this new start. Tuesday night proved the urgency of it more now than ever.

  Sighing, she swiped a thumb across the answer bar. “Tennyson Clark.”

  “Yes, Ms. Clark. This is Veronica Maitland with the Offices of Families and Children in Dayton, Ohio,” the brisk, feminine voice on the other end greeted. “I’m calling about your application for the Child Welfare Caseworker 1 position. We received your résumé and would like to set up a convenient time for a telephone interview since you currently reside in Seattle.”

  Excitement edged with nervousness leaped inside her, and her grip on the phone tightened. “Thank you for contacting me, Ms. Maitland,” she said. And even though her heart pounded so hard it felt like the organ had lodged itself in her throat, she congratulated herself on the calm tone. “As you probably noted on my résumé, I currently work as a personal assistant, so my schedule is flexible. When you have an opening, I’ll make sure I’m available.” God, she hoped that didn’t sound desperate.

  “Okay. Seattle is behind Dayton by two hours, so how about eleven o’clock this Thursday? That would be nine your time. Is that too early?” she asked.

  “Not at all,” Tennyson assured the other woman. “Nine on Thursday. Sounds perfect.” Oh my God. This was happening. That same queasy mixture of eagerness and anxiety churned in her belly.

  “Great, I’ll add it to my schedule now.” The click of fingers tapping over a keyboard echoed across the line. “Do you mind if I ask you a question, Ms. Clark?”

  “Not at all,” Tennyson replied, hoping she didn’t risk blowing her interview before it even happened.

  “You currently live in Seattle. Why are you applying for a job in Dayton?”

  Tennyson didn’t immediately answer, formulating her response in her head first. Finally, she decided to just be honest. “I live in Washington, yes, but what my résumé doesn’t include is that I grew up in Dayton. And in Dayton’s foster care system. When I decided on a major in college, social work seemed the perfect fit. I wanted to work in a system that, while not perfect, can only become better and stronger with people who care to make it so for the children and families in it. And I want to work in the very system that saved me from an unstable home with my mother, and—for good and bad—raised me.”

  A heartbeat of silence pulsed down the connection. “I understand.” And for the first time, a little bit of warmth replaced the cool politeness in the other woman’s voice. “I look forward to speaking with you again on Thursday. Have a good day.”

  “You, too. And thank you again.”

  Tennyson ended the call, staring out the wall of windows opposite her. Her heart continued to thud against her rib cage, but a smile slowly curved her mouth.

  She was doing it. Changing her life. Potentially half a country away from Dom. If things went well with the telephone interview, then the next step might be a final, face-to-face meeting in Dayton.

  If that happened, she would have no choice but to tell Dom the truth.

  She closed her eyes.

  Shit just got real.

  Chapter Eight

  Dom entered the ballroom of The Westin Bellevue Hotel where the black-tie fundraising gala was in full swing. In spite of his pretty boy, party animal image portrayed by the press, he didn’t really care for these social events. Unless his presence was required by the team or business arrangements, he avoided them like the plague. The only person who seemed to detest them more was Ronin. Unfortunately, black tie didn’t permit ripped jeans, T-shirts, and battered worker boots, which was the receiver’s usual outfit of choice.

  Yet, here Dom stood, tuxedo-ed out on a Monday night, in an elegant ballroom full of men and women dressed to the nines, instead of sitting on his couch, catching ESPN highlights and the newest episode of The Coroner: I Speak for the Dead. And all for Zeph’s Jaybird Foundation, named for his grandmother, Josephine Black. For the nonprofit organization that provided support and assistance to inner-city and underprivileged kids across the nation through football, Dom would gladly throw on a monkey suit and back any event with both his presence and money. Zeph had just hosted their annual football camp in June, and Dom had volunteered there as well. It was a great cause, and he admired his friend for his devotion.

  Moving farther into the room, he was stopped every couple of feet by people wanting to shake his hand or ask about the Warriors’ chances for the post season. Post season. Hell, it was only October. They had four more months of ball to go before then. It didn’t escape his notice that no one mentioned the previous day’s loss to Buffalo. It’d been a heartbreaker that had gone to overtime, but in the end, they hadn’t managed to pull it out. Any more losses like that, and he could also lose his starting position. And then his contract. His focus had to be on the next game, the next team, not one so far in the future. But he didn’t voice any of this. Instead he pumped hands, accepted slaps to his back, and donned his public demeanor—big, friendly smile; charming manner; and clean language. Only his close friends understood that while the persona was a part of him, it wasn’t all of him. With them, he could be brooding, rude, and have a gutter mouth. With them, he could show a little of his fear and worry about not carrying his team to a successful, winning season.

  Speaking of his friends, he scanned the crowded space. Being six-foot-five sometimes had its advantages. But not in a room full of football players who stood just as tall, if not taller. He couldn’t find Zeph, Ronin, or…Tennyson.

  A huge fist squeezed his gut. She was supposed to be here tonight, and it would be the first time they’d seen each other since last Tuesday. The last six days were the longest they’d been apart since they’d first met, including when he’d moved out of their foster home and attended college.

  This stretch of time had been—empty. Though he’d filled every moment with football as he prepared for the upcoming game—practice, studying, watching film—there’d still been something missing. Tennyson. Her presence, her laughter, her snarky comments, her friendship.

  A kiss had caused the rip. Just proved he’d been right in stopping it before they could go further. Correction, before he took it further. Sex wasn’t worth the damage it could wreak on their relationship. If a kiss had resulted in this cold warfare, what would’ve happened if he’d slid that robe off her and buried his cock inside her like he’d wanted to in that moment? Between his lack of desire for a relationship while his career was peaking and her desire for a commitment he wasn’t able to give, he could lose her. Permanently. And he wasn’t willing to risk that. Couldn’t allow it to happen. He would no longer be fighting to keep her as his PA but for her to remain in his life.

  And at this moment, with his future as starting quarterback uncertain and a couple of losses already staining their record, his focus had to be on his career, the game. He had to avoid distractions and be in control on and off the field.

  The No Friends with Benefits pact the rest of his group had made after the train wreck that was Renee and Jason made more sense now than ever before.

  “Well, it’s about time you showed up, baby boy,” a voice carrying a distinct Louisiana flavor said from behind him. “I thought I was gonna have to hunt you down with a switch.”

  Grinning, Dom turned around, arms outstretched. He gathered the older woman in his arms and held her in a tight but gentle embrace. Josephine Black might be diminutive in stature, but she was a giant in personality. When he’d first heard Zeph mention his grandmother, Dom had pictured a tall, wide-shouldered, masculine woman who would have no trouble ruling over her grandson and granddaughter, Zeph’s younger sister. Reality had been a bit different. Just an inch or two over five feet, Josephine Black, with Zeph’s same lig
ht brown skin and hazel eyes, was a lovely, almost elfin woman in appearance. Some might mistake her for meek…until she opened her mouth. Her deep voice boomed several sizes bigger than her size, and she was as subtle as a hammer to the balls.

  And Dom adored the hell out of her.

  Not just because she’d adopted him and Ronin like two of her own, but also because if his own grandmother hadn’t died before he was born, he imagined she would’ve been like Josephine. Loving, Wonder Woman strong, and with a low tolerance for bullshit.

  “Sorry, Miss Josephine. I lost track of time after practice. But you knew I was coming if only to see you.” He brushed a kiss over her cheek, inhaling the scent of Chanel No. 5. “And you’re looking gorgeous tonight.” Not a lie. In a black, long-sleeved gown that swept her slim figure and glided over her feet, she was the image of mature sophistication and beauty.

  “Oh please. That charm isn’t going to work on me like one of your women.” She waved off the compliment, though her eyes sparkled with amusement and pleasure. “Speaking of women…” She arched a thin eyebrow. “You usually have one hanging off your arm or trying to get down your pants.” She clucked her tongue. “Just no shame. In my day, we at least tried to add a little mystery about whether or not we’d eventually give in. Now they’re just handing it away like there’s a fire sale on kitty cat.”

  Dom choked on a bark of laughter. Jesus Christ. The woman had no filter.

  “I just decided to go solo tonight, Miss Josephine.” Slipping an arm around her shoulders, he plucked a glass of champagne from a passing server’s tray. He loved this woman to pieces, but he was going to need this alcohol. “So you’ve met Sophia. You like her?”

  “Of course,” she said, nabbing the glass of wine from his hand and taking a delicate sip. “She’s perfect for Boo.”

  “Boo” being Zephirin. Dom swallowed a snicker at the childhood nickname. Instead he chided, “I thought you couldn’t drink with the blood-pressure medicine Zeph said your doctor put you on.”